


I'll Say Yes Anyway

by lovelycherryblondelocks



Series: It's Winter, Anyway [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Love, M/M, One-Shot, Sweatshirts, Winter, newtmas - Freeform, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:52:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelycherryblondelocks/pseuds/lovelycherryblondelocks
Summary: But as fun the banter and teasing had been, Newt wishes it were true. Painfully so, that he could not even bear a moment of silence with such an implication sent his way before he says,‘You know what? Why not? We joke about it all the time so why don’t you kneel down and put a ring on it?’But that would be too creepy –too imposing and demanding. Even if Newt had been a spoiled lover who could not live without being pampered, he knew when to be modest and hesitant.He doesn’t think for once that Tommy might be making his way to their house with a velvet box hidden in his pocket.





	I'll Say Yes Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> I love the winter seasons but I never get to experience it. I wanted to somehow portray a setting that I thought was mystical and life-like but simple, much like Winter. I do hope you'll enjoy this fic, this is my first Newtmas fic and comments & kudos are very much appreciated. Thank you for taking time to read this!

Newt is appalled.

It’s winter.

And Tommy was not by his side.

-

“I never knew it worked that way.” Tommy says, hinting a teasing tone in his voice.

Newt shuts the book, demeaning the time spent as he feels much more inclined to berate the man. He does so by huffing, a rough release of breath near that of a sneer and a groan.

‘You’re not taking this seriously!” The blonde is almost immediate with his reaction, furrowing his eyebrows to proclaim he’s been infuriated to an extent even Tommy should not breach.

“I am. I never said how long I would, though.” Tommy responds.

What was left unfinished on their table scattered in such a way Newt could not resist to appreciate. Waves of wind weaved through their living room, empty from all the piled boxes on the corners never bothered to be unboxed. Papers were, however, scattered around their carpeted floor. In the midst of their silent argument, their mugs were left untouched and had gone cold from the widely opened balcony. As quiet as the noon had been and as soft the rays had hit their skins, Newt did not take too long to take in the warmth of their new home.

Instead, he’d much rather spend his whole afternoon sulking.

Tommy notices it, always. Whenever he absentmindedly puffed his cheeks or distanced his body in an effort to be petty. He’s petulant and persistent all the same but Tommy is more than practiced to deal with him.

When the blonde turns away in exasperation that’s never voiced out, Tommy acts quick enough to hold him by his side and weave his strong arms around the blonde’s frail waist. Newt does not give in, adamant to show his irritation despite knowing he would yield sooner or later –but he chose to wander within his tampered mood a little while longer. Tommy does not intervene with his silent whining, and sits still behind him.

Slowly, he drummed his fingertips on the blonde’s clothed skin. But it seethed –the touch, he meant. It was scalding and intrusive even after so many years of having experienced it. Newt knew how stubborn the touch could be. The first time he was held the same way, he burned. Flustered and abashed, he knew not to indulge too much for him not to melt.

Tommy softly moved his lips a mere distance away from his nape, breath hanging into that little space he made. Newt is certain the man finds it immensely amusing to see his milky nape turn into a shade of red most could not fathom to think would exist as a person’s complexion. Somehow, he was becoming a living proof of that.

“I’m sorry.” Tommy mutters as he noses the man’s nape. It comes as a muffled voice when says it. But it was sweet and deceitful all the same. Newt would dare say no matter how unfairly romantic and husky his voice had been, he would not give in so quickly.

And yet he turns his head with peering eyes near softening. He absolutely abhors it, how Tommy can so much as manipulate him with his voice and Newt would beg for him to sing any word and be so submissive towards the boy. It is most definitely insulting to his pride when he does other things to unsettle him in ways he’s never felt before. He hopes it was just as easy to eradicate such effects, to let them dissipate into nothingness and Newt would surely be freed of any control.

But Tommy is Tommy. And it is never easy with Tommy.

Newt sighs as he settled his own puny hands atop the man’s, lithe fingers holding hesitantly at the man’s bony ones. It only takes him one, two, three seconds before he leans his head ever so carefully on Tommy’s chest –blissfully lured by the large body engulfing him to something familiar, warm and leading him to _home_.

The once reluctant fingers now returned a tight grasp, eliciting a meek flinch from Tommy’s hold.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Tommy teases.

Newt breathes out a small puff of air from his lips. “I’m still considering it.”

Tommy simply hums and returns the grip on his hands with just enough love as Newt had sent him through his touch.

He nuzzles further into the blonde’s neck, grinning happily as if he’d won.

He did.

-

Newt is woken up by the rustling of sheets beside him. He shivers when he finds an empty spot. Tommy is quick to reassure him he’s just in one of his sleepless nights, too dazed and delighted with his new painting by their wide window to offer him warmth.

The idle man peers open one eye; the other closed and covered by the sheets of soft pillows. Tommy curtly pats him by his exposed shoulder before pulling the sheets just below his chin. It’s settled rightfully where he wants to be covered.

“Don’t go too far.” Newt murmurs, clasping at the hem of his pillow with his free hand as the other is tucked in underneath it.

Tommy chuckles but it came hesitant. _Stinted, rather_.

The man is still at the edge of their bed, sat on soft mattresses and layered comforters. But he does not appreciate the warmth all too much, seeing as he is only in his pants and rather comfortable with it. On the other hand, Newt’s skin is livid from the cold and he trembles as he sinks further into the sheets and makes a cocoon for himself. His head is spared and bare from the comforters so he can clearly feel and hear the movements of the other man sitting up beside him. There are no muffled whispers but soft snickers coming from Tommy.

“Stop laughing.” Newt says, pouting as he looks up at Tommy in his most beautiful form. Underneath the lit of blue shadows and dim lights, _his_ man is almost glowing. And Newt is amused when he calls Tommy _his_. But fast enough to remind himself he has the right to do so. He has every right to deem Tommy as _his_.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Tommy says.

There is a long moment of silence in which Newt gratefully succumbs to. He is almost fast asleep again when Tommy travels his fingers along his curls and softly –too quiet and low, the man leans forward, almost impossibly close to Newt’s forehead despite his position on the bed and says,

“I love you.”

Newt’s skin is once again flustered –abashed and colored with red. The shade is maddeningly warm too.

The blonde seethes in the following silence for a moment before he shoves the blankets all too harshly and pulls the other man down. He winces as the soreness strains him too much. Tommy is surprised, to say the least. But as they lay, head turned towards each other and eyes set ablaze with something akin to immense passion –or most definitely _is_ a quintessence of intense love (yet the intensity is balanced out so it never burns too much or dies down too quickly. It’s paced ever so beautifully that none could ever comprehend how smooth and well it goes), Tommy becomes satisfied. 

Tommy finds his hand atop the man’s curved waist. Newt’s hands chose to venture somewhere on Tommy’s cheek. They stare into each other a little longer –beneath how many stars were out there tonight, among the clouds or behind the moon – as the presence of honking cars from afar or mewling cats that dogs may have been barking at fade into a lower volume. And as lively as the outside had been, the inside was just as undeniably loud.

No matter how many times they’ve done this, no matter how few their fights appear and these more apparent and frequent –Newt still fails to calm his erratic heart. He still fails to ignore the effects of being with Tommy. He still fails to _ignore_ Tommy.

Be it pride as a man or pride as a whole –Newt has been adamant to deny Tommy with how he is awfully in control of him. How he is dominant in everything that concerns Newt’s life (and even in the bedroom, but Newt is rather fond of being submissive to Tommy) and yet he allows them. Perhaps because Tommy never forced his natural dominance on him, and he asks it all the time before he imposes anything on Newt. He is careful and gentle and aware of Newt’s wants –of his needs. And he clearly _needs_ Tommy.

His thumb kisses Tommy’s cheek, rubbing it in a circular motion.

“I love you too.” Newt says with cheeks not as pale anymore.

Tommy replies with a kiss.

-

They often pass by the pet shop. It is more Tommy’s wish than his to walk a route close to it.

They don’t drive often as Tommy loves it that way. He has loved their walks and long conversations more than he has loved steering the wheel and waiting tirelessly for the green light.

As they hold hands and naturally fall into the same pacing, they look around the pets visible from the stained glass. Winter has never been forgiving of windows and doors. Neither have they been merciful to hats and coats. But Tommy is stubborn to keep up their walks no matter the season. And maybe Newt is more than happy to comply because it meant they’re still together –for how long the seasons pass by and they walked the same street, the same route and sometimes find themselves at night drunkenly meandering on the sidewalks with streetlights as their only guide back home.

Tommy pleads for them to stop and stare at the pet shop –but they never enter. Newt confusingly questions him about it one day only to be met with a nonchalant shrug on the shoulders and a noncommittal noise.  The blonde gave it respite, never doubted the man and never demanded anything.

Because he knew there's not thing to question. And because Newt is more than happy to look at the gleaming rings displayed beautifully at the elegant-looking jewelry shop, opposite their spot.

Tommy often catches him looking at them but never comments. Never demands anything. But he knew there’s one thing to question the man about. And he is hopeful the answer is what he dreams about every night –where sometimes he becomes too overwhelmed with doubt and apprehensively search for his easel and canvas.

So Tommy only comes to the pet shop for two things:

To see the adorable dogs and his lover’s face smiling so sweetly and warmly at the rings –assuring Tommy he’s more than ready to say it, only if Tommy himself could bring up the question.

-

It’s almost wishful. Newt thinks it’s too early and becomes anxious. Sometimes he feels as if it’s far too long and desires it more than anything else to happen.

He doesn’t wish a grand proposal –in fact, he’s never appreciated gaudy and bedazzling performances. He favors simple, sweet but memorable moments. A modest proposal is no exception. All he wants is Tommy on his knees, holding out a velvet box in their own house, smiling his comely smile and peering with his doe-eyed gaze. All he wants is Tommy and rings.

He ponders about it as he lays his head atop the cold glass pane of their balcony. The white, silky curtains appear ghostly when they swayed with the winds. Papers still scattered around the floor and the once strong aroma of coffee has softly receded into an unnoticeable scent. Tommy is at work and Newt is just as where he’s been left behind. As uninviting as his skin was to the cold, Newt wears Tommy’s sweatshirt and parades himself to the sky with just his boxers.

Milky thighs and uncovered collarbones, shoulder blades peeking out of the sweatshirt’s hold –too large to accommodate the frail figure of the blonde. If Tommy had known better, he would have stayed and taken a picture of this man –angelic and mystical as he lies at the corner of the room whisked away into his own wonderland. One leg free and one folded near his chest, sometimes he rests his chin atop his folded knee and sometimes back to the cold window pane. But he is still beautiful no matter.

His mind wanders around different memories where Newt has heard him say, but in different words, phrases and actions –

_‘Maybe we should adopt a pet.’_

_‘Do you want to buy a bigger house?’_

_‘My in-laws would be mad at me if you don’t sleep well.’_

_‘I have enough money to pay the bills, just be the pretty housewife that I want you to be.’_

Of course, he says all of these without any intended offense. He jokes about it all the time and Newt grumbles as a response.

_‘I just haven’t gotten the time to write again, okay? Give me a break and I’ll be the one paying the bills one day.’_

And Newt would answer.

But as fun the banter and teasing had been, Newt wishes it were true. Painfully so, that he could not even bear a moment of silence with such an implication sent his way before he says,

_‘You know what? Why not? We joke about it all the time so why don’t you kneel down and put a ring on it?’_

But that would be too creepy –too imposing and demanding. Even if Newt had been a spoiled lover who could not live without being pampered, he knew when to be modest and hesitant.

He doesn’t think for once that Tommy might be making his way to their house with a velvet box hidden in his pocket.

-

Newt is appalled.

It’s winter.

And Tommy was not by his side.

He wakes up without any reassurance where Tommy might be.  Newt almost bounces off the bed and scramble for clothing when his eyes settle on a painting placed in front of him at the edge of the mattress. His feet and fingers tingle with a sense of anticipation when he finds the canvas portraying him in a peaceful rest, naked and veiled with soft blankets only on his behind. The rest of his skin had been exposed to the kisses of the sun’s rays. _It’s always beautiful with Tommy_ , he thinks.

The blonde covers himself with the blanket and wanders around the room to look for Tommy. This time confused rather than frightened.

When he sees the door ajar with just enough light to hint at someone’s intrusion inside their living room, Newt is quick to recover from his tiredness and treads his bare feet towards the threshold. A soft melody resounds from the half-opened door. The blonde peers through and finds his gaze landing on Tommy’s strong back facing him. His muscle tenses as he pushes the keys of the piano, nape revealed as he leans forward with every high note and big changes in his tune. His elbows only flinch when Newt fully opens the door and walks in a slow manner.

He feels like a queen as he treads slowly towards Tommy, dragging the long blankets along their flooring and finding his place beside the man. Comfortably seated and just the right distance from Tommy.

The man continues to play despite the interference; Newt is more than happy to lean his head on his shoulders. The weight does not hinder Tommy from playing and so did the fingers that played along with him.

Newt easily enters the scene and makes himself at home. He places his hand on the keys and plays as if he’d known all along the tune Tommy had composed. Or maybe he did, all those nights he’d listened quietly to Tommy’s music. But somehow it feels much more complete to be  part of the melody –because Newt feels as if he belongs with the notes Tommy draws out from his fingertips, as if the one melody Newt desires he plays perfectly would require Newt to be there. _To complete it._

They play together in a pattern before they go all out –improvising and somehow clashing at some points before finding each other’s beat. Because that’s what they were, they play different melodies and they want their tune to be played instead of the other but somehow, _always_ , they find a way to leave their own desires and find harmony in playing one settled tune. A song that they both came up with and both wanted. _Their song._

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Newt asks in a whisper once they stop playing. He tips his head forward with the help of his chin still glued to Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy gazes back at him and smiles. “Thinking. Just thinking.”

The smile he shows him is wistful and nostalgic. As if doubtful and insecure. Newt becomes disconcerted when he takes notice of this.

“About what?”

Tommy brings his hand around Newt’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer to his hip. He finds the man’s hand on his lap, toying with his fingers and touching the knuckles.

“What you’ll say.” Tommy answers.

Before Newt could once again question him, he feels a cold metal graze his ring finger. He is almost too astounded to think what it meant. His mind is numbed and his body is rigid –not from fear, no, far from that. He is flushed to the core but not of embarrassment this time. Dare he say he is too overjoyed to speak.

There is a lump of excitement stuck at his throat before he moves; knowing Tommy might have just been as apprehensive and insecure as he was. Knowing Tommy wanted _this_ as much as he wanted it. And dear God, has he fallen so deeply for this boy that no exaggeration or dramatic reaction is needed to convey how he feels –when all his compassion and affection is settled not only within his heart but has long resided within Tommy’s as well. That is how much he loves Tommy –his own heart is within Tommy.

Newt is sniffing before he realizes the unbidden tears falling from his eyes. He nuzzles his head further into the man’s neck before softly saying in a hushed tone,

“You already know what I’ll say.”

Tommy’s hold on his fingers tightens as he laughs ever so sweetly.

“I wanted to be sure.”

Newt answers something through a sigh,

_‘You don’t have to be certain. I’ll say yes anyway.’_

-

Newt wakes up with a hand on his waist. He peeks at his fingers then at Tommy’s, a knowing glint coming from both their hands when the sun hits with just enough beam.

-


End file.
